


Running Blind

by hanyou_elf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hell, Incest, M/M, Not Dealing Well, PTSD, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:09:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is not coping well.   </p>
<p>Semi-plotty pwps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Blind

Pain explodes through him. It fills every crevice and it takes over his awareness. All he has become is an exposed nerve, pained and broken and given to the stimuli of the demon that has control over his soul. 

He gasps a breath in and knows that it is futile. He knows that he isn’t breathing, not really. He’s a soul, and even if he were a body, he would be breathing in the frigid icy mist around him. His hands, bloody and ruined, fist at the ends of his arms and he’s clinging to the chains that bind him as fresh pain rockets through him. 

There’s movement behind him, _within_ him. He knows that it’s only Alastair come back to take his body. Alastair coming to taste him. Alastair coming to own him. He sobs as the movement drags something barbed through him.

Alastair likes him. The demon likes the way he submits, unable to escape and unable to move away from the persistent thrusts. It is hell, and he wants to die. He wants to submit and give up and get off of the rack that Alastair keeps him on. But he’s not stupid. And he knows that getting off of the rack won’t save him from this humiliating pain. It’ll just give him room to move around. 

“Would you like for me to stop this?” Alastair whispers into his ear, panting breaths that send decay across his face. 

He can’t talk. Alastair takes his tongue first anymore. He pries his jaw apart and pulls his tongue out and eats it. And then he gets to work on the rest of the soul. He doesn’t take the voice box so Alastair can hear his screams. He shakes his head in the negative, refusing to give the demon what he wants. 

It doesn’t make him anything but happy and he renews his assault. There is no relief for the soul and his wordless screams echo around the cavernous room, reverberating back to him in tortured and garbled reflections.

 

 

Dean wakes with a scream. He’s shaking in the bed of the small hotel room they managed to just barely afford- with a blowjob while Sam was out getting dinner to bring back to the room. The credit card schemes have to be reworked and they only use cash for the hotel rooms at the moment. And that’s getting harder because he doesn’t want to hustle and Sam’s not in the right mind for it anymore. 

Dean’s considering prostitution again, and he knows that he’ll be good at it. He could make Alastair focus on him alone for hours at a time. And he could take a cock as big as his fist like a champion. He doesn’t even need to have the prep that some people seem to demand. He likes the pain- needs it. Alastair trained his soul very well. 

Sam blinks beside him and drops his hand heavily on Dean’s thigh. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t have to. Dean is well trained and he remembers what Sam likes. The nightmares are always going to be there, Sam is not. But he knows how to get Sam to go back to sleep and how to distract him from the reality that is Dean’s damaged soul. 

He offers no warning or explanation before he slides into Sam’s lap and drags a hand over Sam’s half-hard flesh behind him. He knows that he shouldn’t do this, that Sam hates it when he treats what they do like a chore instead of the “making love” thing he’d fantasized about before Dean went to Hell, but he can’t stop the need that bubbles within him. 

Sam groans and sits up, shifting Dean in his lap. The hard flesh against Dean’s ass is enough. It didn’t take much to get his brother where he needs him and he pushes himself up on his knees. He offers no warning before he sinks down, pushing Sam as far into his body as he can take him, moaning through the pain, and turning it into something a little more seductive and teasing. Sam wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and rides the slow undulations of Dean’s back as he rides Sam. 

His brother is painful within his body, and his cock feels just right. Sam’s hold is perfect and restrictive and Dean can revive the pain and pleasure that were so entwined and so beaten into his soul. It doesn’t take long to get Sam off, to make him explode and fill Dean. He groans and his arms tighten around Dean’s body and he’s crying as he comes. It’s painful and perfect and everything he wanted. 

He doesn’t come. He hasn’t come during sex in a long time, but Sam’s stopped worrying about it too much. He looked up and researched trauma and how it affects people. He knows that Sam thinks he’s broken, and as he pushes himself to his knees to slip Sam free, he lets himself think that maybe his little brother is right. Alastair did something to him, and Castiel can’t replace it.

Sam pulls him down to lie in the bed beside him, wraps his powerful arms around his older brother and slides his hands down Dean’s back and up again. Dean lets Sam hold him close and breathes. He’ll go to sleep eventually. And he knows that he doesn’t want to again but it’s going to happen. 

His human body is weak and he knows that. He was powerful with Alastair.

Sam kisses him softly and strokes his back until he drifts off and leans heavily into Dean. Dean sighs and folds his arm behind his head while he breaths slowly, waiting for sleep to claim him again or daylight to rouse Sam for the day. 

 

 

Alastair kneels before him. It’s a teasing pose, one of submission that would be, in anyone else at any other time, a precursor to something much more fun. But he knows what happens here when the demon kneels before him. He’s been privy to this before and he knows what’s going to happen. 

His body clenches in anticipation because even though it hurts like nothing he’s ever felt before, he knows that he can’t get away from it and knows that he’ll find a way to enjoy this pain. He sighs heavily as fingers dig deeply into his thighs and the demon’s mouth slides over his dick. He’s expecting the pain that engulfs him when Alastair bites down, but that doesn’t help. He pulls at the chains that bind him, that keep him still and pliant beneath the demon’s ministrations and sobs. 

Fingers, sharpened nails first, dig into his body and pull him open forcefully, bleeding and desperate as he ripped open. He cries, and the tears that slide down his cheek burn like acid. He can feel his skin bubbling; can feel his balls pulling up at the pain that thunders through him. It’s mixed with pleasure and he knows that he’s going to come from this. 

He hates himself and what this demon has taught him. 

“Climb down from there with me,” Alastair tempts. 

And as pleasure explodes through him, he nods acceptance.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a rough couple of months, so i decided to take it out on my favorite whipping boy. Sorry Dean, even though you suffer so prettily. Also, this hasn't been beta-read, so if you see something wrong, then please point it out for me!


End file.
